


In the Moments Between

by Honu



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, tcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:35:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2578475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honu/pseuds/Honu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapped and facing death, Leo and Mike find solace in each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Moments Between

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: tcest implications.

He awoke to darkness. The silence broken only by his own labored breathing.

“Mike,” Leonardo called out, his voice a forced whisper.

He heard Michelangelo’s pained moan coming from somewhere up ahead. “Leo…” came the shuddering reply.

Still alive. The fear settled a little lower in his stomach, and he let out an inward sigh. “Mikey, you hurt?”

“…S’my leg.”

“Okay, hang on. I’m coming.” Trying to clamp down on the sudden wave of dizziness that sent pinpricks of light skittering across his vision, Leo started toward the sound of his brother’s voice, but halted when he felt a pull on his leg. His fingers reached down and probed the heavy chain that bound his right ankle to the floor. He automatically felt for the lockpick he kept hidden in his belt, but it was gone; he’d been stripped of all his gear, his mask included. Leo fisted the chain and pulled, testing for any weakness, but it held tight. It did give him some leeway of movement, though; a couple feet, maybe, but not much more.

“Mike, can you move?”

There was a moment of silence, cut short by the sound of metal dragging on the floor.

Michelangelo groaned. “Lockpick’s gone, too.”

“Try to get as far as you can. Follow my voice.”

Listening to the sound of his brother’s struggles, Leonardo began his own slow crawl forward. His movements felt weak and sluggish, every inch gained a labor of focused concentration and iron will.

Sensing his brother’s approach, he reached out in the darkness and found Mike’s own outstretched hand. Leo gripped it tightly.

His brother gave an answering squeeze. “You okay?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, I-I’m fine.” He felt Michelangelo’s wordless doubt wash over him, but his sibling didn’t press.

“Felt a wall somewhere over here.” Mike said at last, patting the area around him. “Here,” he said, reaching back to guide Leo’s hand until it touched the cold metallic surface of their enclosure.

Leonardo nodded and followed his brother’s movements, pulling himself up to rest against the wall, the chain coiling around his feet. Michelangelo collapsed next to him, right knee touching his own, his left leg extended at an awkward angle. Leo paused and silently counted his breaths while waiting for the next wave of dizziness to pass.

He then turned his attention to his brother. “Lemme see your leg.” Mike slowly maneuvered to face him, grimacing with pain. When Leo’s tentative explorations reached the outer edge of his calf, Michelangelo tensed and exhaled sharply through gritted teeth. The gash felt deep, but at least the bleeding had slowed. With nothing to bandage it with, though, there wasn’t anything they could do.

“It’ll be okay,” Leo soothed. “Nothing Don can’t fix.”

“Sure hope they get here soon." Mike hated the plaintive sound in his voice, but was helpless to stop it.

Leo read the notes in his brother’s tone and gently squeezed his arm. “They will. They’ll know something’s up when we don’t show as promised.”

****

Hours passed amid a slow succession of minutes. The limits of their chains had revealed they were in some kind of featureless holding cell, the ceiling mere inches above their heads, making it impossible to stand. The unlined walls were all smoothed edges and cold metal, and the chains that bound them each to the floor were firmly welded at the base.

Even with the limited exertion employed in their explorations, the effort had exhausted Leonardo’s reserves. The dizzy spells were becoming more frequent, and he found it increasingly difficult to think through the fog that encircled his thoughts. Finally, at Michelangelo’s insistence, he resigned himself to slumping weakly against the wall, panting and nauseous. His brother hovered at his side, hand on the outer ridge of his shell, a silent question on his lips.

“I’m okay,” Leo tried to smile, forgetting for a moment that his brother couldn’t see him in the darkness.

Mike gave him an exasperated sigh and reached out to probe the circumference of his head. When his fingers touched the base of his skull, they came back sticky with blood.

Leo winced and tried to pull away. “It’s nothing.”

“Stop it,” Mike said in a low tone, firmly cupping his brother’s jaw and holding him in place until Leo softened, allowing him to gently trace the bloody outline that traveled up and around, ending just behind his right ear. Mike huffed, “Just a scratch, right?”

Leo could hear the strain in his brother’s voice. He reached up and touched the back of Michelangelo’s hand. “They’ll be here soon.”

“How long you think it’s been?”

“Not sure,” he admitted. “Couple hours, maybe. We need to get some rest, though. Conserve our energy.”

He felt Mike’s reluctance vibrating like a taut string, but his brother eventually relented and allowed himself to be drawn back to Leo’s side, who then reached an arm around him, pulling him closer. “Get some sleep. I’ll keep first watch.”

Too exhausted and hurt to argue, Mike simply nodded, then settled against his brother, head on his shoulder. Leo rested his cheek against his sibling’s forehead, and by slow incremental measures, Mike’s breathing finally evened out as he crossed into a fitful sleep.

Leo waited for the tension in his brother’s shoulders to ease, then leaned back against the wall, preparing for the long vigil. The waiting was the worst part—their survival dangled like the ends of a shredded rope, frayed and weak.

Leonardo squeezed his eyes shut and forced the thought away.

His brothers would come.

The memory of the fight itself was clouded, a protean thing, shifting and turning through a murky haze. The enemy attacked from above; a tidal wave of bodies coming at them from all sides, a blur of frenzied motion—and Mike a whirlwind dervish amidst the action. As fast as they came, his brother knocked them down, delivering devastating blows to any assailant that dare come within reach. Leo held his own a few yards away, driving the enemy back with steel and determination, leaving a trail of broken and bleeding bodies in his wake.

And then...

Leo’s brow furrowed in concentration. And then...something happened. The memory shifted again, and carried with it the image of his brother landing hard on the concrete, a startled gasp between clenched teeth. Another shift, and now it was of his own desperate struggle to reach his sibling’s crumpled form, a promise of retribution inking the blades. His only thought, hammered in every heartbeat, was to save his brother, save him _now_.

Then the darkness crashed down, and the memory of what happened next was a black void.

Leonardo sighed and raked a tired hand over his face. All he knew was that Raph and Don were out there somewhere, and he and Mike were trapped in here.

****

Michelangelo woke with a shuddering start, sending a jolt of pain spiraling up his leg, the nightmare still lingering on the edges of his consciousness. Panic welling in his throat, he blindly felt for his brother in the dark.

“I’m here,” Leo whispered, giving him a reassuring pat. 

Mike let out a shaky breath and wiped absently at the beads of sweat that dotted his brow. “How long have I been out?”

“Not long. Try to get some more sleep, okay?”

Shivering, Mike nestled tighter into the sheltering comfort of his brother’s arm.

The feeling of his little brother quaking against him prompted Leo to reach up and touch Michelangelo’s forehead. Sickly heat radiated from his skin.

“Jeez, Mike, you’re burning up.”

Michelangelo frowned. “It’s freezing in here.”

The worried knot tightened in Leo’s stomach. “C’mere, we need to keep you warm.” With Leo’s guiding hands, Mike carefully maneuvered between their chains and positioned himself into his brother’s lap. Leo encircled him between his legs, his arms reaching around in a tight embrace. Mike relished the added warmth and curled inward against his brother, resting his head against the curve in his neck, one hand lightly clasping Leo’s forearm. Remembering his sibling’s own injuries, he glanced up. “How ‘bout you, how’s your head?”

Leonardo fidgeted against him. “Little better.”

Mike couldn’t help but smirk.

“What?” Leo said.

“Liar,” Michelangelo teased.

Leo tried to formulate a response but the words quickly died on his lips. Michelangelo still had ahold of his arm and was absently running his thumb back and forth against his skin. The feeling sent a gentle warmth radiating through his body, and, with it, all kinds of unbidden feelings. Pulled between opposing thoughts, Leo held still, trying to control his breathing, hoping it wouldn’t betray him.

Reading his brother’s silence, Mike stopped and raised his head, an unspoken question hanging between them. He sensed that Leo was about to say something, but then his brother seemed to hesitate, an internal debate pulling at him. Michelangelo held his breath and waited.

At last, Leonardo lowered his head, his lips almost touching Mike’s ear. “Get some sleep, Mikey,” he murmured.

Mike bit down on the frustrated sigh that threatened to erupt, but said nothing. Instead, he tried to ignore the dull ache that had settled in his chest, and the all too familiar longing that he’d long fought to repress.

Of all his brothers, he’d always felt closest to Leo. His duties as their leader—the rigid discipline and hyper protectiveness that was a source of near constant tension between him and Raph—these things were set aside when it was just the two of them alone in the safe confines of the lair. Mikey had always taken a certain pleasure in being able to pull his brother out of himself, even for the briefest of moments. To draw a small, hesitant smile from him, to get him to let his guard down, to just be Leonardo – that was what he lived for. He’d come to see it as his own duty to keep his sibling from getting too lost within himself, and for that, he sensed, Leo seemed grateful. Perhaps that was why his older brother had always indulged him when Don shooed him out of his lab or Raph yelled at him yet again to _grow up_ for fuck’s sake. And Leo never sent him away when Mikey slinked into his room, crawling into bed with a half-formed apology on his lips, still trembling from a nightmare, the shadows left in its wake too dark, the lair too quiet. In truth, Mike needed his big brother just as much.

****

Leonardo felt the tension in his brother play out in his fractured breathing before slowly ebbing away, allowing his sibling to surrender once again to sleep. He sat quietly, ignoring the insistent pounding in his head, feeling his brother’s chest rise and fall against his own, the slight vibrations pulsating against his plastron as his sibling shivered in his sleep. Leo silently wished for the fever to break soon. He lightly pressed his fingers against the pulse in Mike’s wrist, taking comfort in the beat of his brother’s life-force.

To Leo, Michelangelo was his anchor, a lifeline to the world when the dark waters of his own thoughts threatened to drown him. Though he loved all his brothers, and would die to protect them, it was Mike who he felt most comfortable with in their quiet moments; the one he could turn to when his fears and anxieties wound him tight like a Gordian knot, when he thought he might finally break from the pressure. His little brother had an uncanny ability to read Leo’s moods, no matter how hard he tried to hide them from his family. A playful touch, a rakish grin—Leo was helpless to resist. It was not often that his sibling would creep into his room to share his bed with him, but, when he did, Leo’s tension would finally unravel and he would sleep with an ease not often felt, his own breath slowing to match his brother’s. Only then did Leonardo know peace.

****

Minutes or hours later, Leo was pulled from his thoughts by his brother’s restless movements.

“Leo?”

“Hmm?”

Mike trembled against him. “It’s so cold.” 

Leo hugged his sibling tighter, their heads lightly touching, breathing in his familiar scent. “Little brother,” he gently intoned. “We’ll get you home, I promise.”

“Brother…” Mike echoed, the tone in his voice at once melancholy and wistful.

It was then, in those liminal moments between life and death, past and future, duty and love—the final outcome bearing down on them both like a speeding train—that Leonardo accepted the truth that had always been there, and his own heart ached in response. He leaned next to Mike’s ear, his lips trailing lightly against his brother’s skin. “And more,” he whispered.

At that, he felt a slight hitch in his brother’s chest. Silence moved between them in long, unbroken waves.

Then he felt his brother stir in his arms, his hand reaching to entwine their fingers together.

“I know,” Mike whispered back.

Leo smiled in the dark.


End file.
